Total Drama Interactions
by JoeMerl
Summary: A collection of short stories about the "Total Drama" characters, engaging in friendships, romances, rivalries, and other relationships. Current Interaction: Sam never expected to meet a real person like Dakota.
1. Gwen and Trent: Missed

Hello. Welcome to my new fanfiction, "Total Drama Interactions." (I'm still not sure about that title, but...eh.) Basically, this will be a short-story collection, each chapter focusing on two (or maybe more) people. Some will be romances, some will be friendships, some will be hatred and some will be ambiguous. (None will be slash, though. I'm not really into that.) I'm planning at least twenty-five of these stories, maybe more; we'll see what happens. Anyway, since I know people will want to see the Big Three Romances eventually, we'll just start with a little Gwen/Trent story. ...Despite the fact that Trent doesn't actually appear. (Does that count as interaction, then? Ah, who cares.) Enjoy!

* * *

**Interaction:** Gwen and Trent

Gwen hated to admit it, but she had actually missed being home.

It had taken her a while to figure this out at Camp Wawanakwa. Not that she didn't want to leave---_that_ feeling had hit her hard as soon as she took her first look at the place. But what had surprised her a lot was the desire to go _home_, not as a way of getting out of that stupid competition, but actually because she _wanted to be at home._ But soon she couldn't deny it. She missed things.

She missed the quiet streets of her boring suburban town. She missed the friends she would troll around town with, complaining that there was nothing to do. She missed her annoyingly-cheery mom. She missed the disgusting health food she always made. (Well, next to Chef's cooking, anything seemed good.) She even missed her little brother.

Though _that_ sentiment didn't last long after returning home.

"Hey, whatcha listening to with that stupid grin on your face?"

"Hey---!"

He snatched the headphones off of her head and put them on. In a panic, Gwen pressed the "Next" button on her M3P player without him seeing, just as he got the headphones over his ears.

There was a slight pause. Then Gwen heard loud grunge rock music blaring out from the headphones. Her brother drew back in surprise and threw the headphones off, making a face.

"_Ugh._ How can you _listen_ to that stuff?" he grumbled. Gwen snatched the headphones back up as he shook his head and walked away.

She waited until he was out of the room, then pressed the "Previous" button and put the headphones back on, lying down on the couch.

After a moment a slow guitar strumming and a familiar voice filled her ears.

__

"They say we've only got summer,  
And I say that's really a bummer  
But we'll swim in the sun  
And have lots of fun..."

Gwen sighed and relaxed, that sappy grin her brother had noticed settling back over her face.

She had missed things at home. But of course, now that she was back, there were a few things she missed about the show as well.

* * *

Personally, I agree with Heather---Trent's songs stink. Or at least the lyrics.

**Next Interaction:** Heather and Lindsay


	2. Heather and Lindsay: Giving Things Away

Wow...more people seem interested in debating Trent's songwriting ability than anything else I wrote in the last chapter. ;-) But thanks for the reviews!

* * *

**Interaction: **Lindsay and Heather

Needless to say, Heather was not in a good mood as the Boat of Losers pulled into the dock of the resort.

And she was even less happy when she saw the welcome party that had come to greet her.

Ezekiel was there. So were Katie and Sadie. And…

"Oh my gosh, Heather? _You_ got voted off tonight? And— what happened to your _hair?_"

Heather eyes narrowed. She jumped off the boat and stormed right up to her, jabbing her in the collar bone. Lindsay drew back, startled.

"What happened?! Are you really that dense?! _You _happened to it, you little traitor! It was _your_ little dare that got me voted off tonight, and _LOST ME MY HAIR!_"

Lindsay drew back, startled, as Heather advanced on her. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum had grabbed each other fearfully; Home-school looked like he had a strong desire to join their little huddle. Heather shook with rage. She didn't think she had ever been so angry, ever hated anyone, not that stupid piece of ghetto trash or that Goth freak or even Damian, as much as she hated that stupid, vapid, empty-headed blonde Valley-Girl-wannabe right now.

"This is all YOUR fault! Thanks to YOU, all my hard work is RUINED! YOU humiliated me on national— "

"International."

"_INTERNATIONAL_ television, I've lost my money, my hair, and my entire reputation all because of YOU! I— "

Lindsay winced back with each new assault, but her face still looked strangely bright as she held something up between her and Heather's face. Heather faltered. "What is _that?_"

"A wig."

"Uh— i-is this that stupid wig you wore in the phobia challenge?" Heather asked, taking it and holding it out as if it were a large, dead rodent.

"Yeah-huh. I dyed it black, though. So it'd be more like your color." She looked unusually shrewd. "I thought something like this might happen."

Heather scoffed, turning away. "And what do you expect me to do with _this?_"

"That," Lindsay said, straightening up and tossing back her hair in an oddly regal manner, "is entirely up to you. Come on, guys."

And without another word, Lindsay turned around and marched back into the resort. Ezekiel, Katie and Sadie gave Heather a quick, nervous glance before following.

Heather glared after them. If she really expected her to wear this…

Heather reached out and touched what remained of her hair. She looked down at the wig. It was just about the same color, she thought. And the same length…ugh, if only if it wasn't for that annoying spiky horror in the front…

Heather silently slid the wig on, raised her head, straightened it and paused for just a moment before marching into the resort. If some of them hadn't heard about the accident yet, maybe she could fool them at least until the word spread. Assuming Lindsay hadn't already told them. That girl was horrible at giving things away.

* * *

**Next Interaction:** Ezekiel and Katie. I think. Until then, please leave reviews!


	3. Ezekiel and Katie: Alone

I really like these two together; I think I might have a short-story collection about them coming out in the future. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Interaction:** Ezekiel and Katie

Ezekiel had learned a couple things about girls since the start of _Total Drama Island_. He'd learned that they (or at least Eva) could sometimes be as strong as guys. He'd learned that they could be nice and kind, or hold long and dangherous grudges (again, like Eva). He'd learned that they were often smart but always illogical, and that it was best that he be very careful whenever he felt the urge to talk, act or breathe in their presence.

And, finally, he had learned that girls---and two girls in particular---generally never wanted to be alone.

"Ugh, they even go to the _bathroom_ at the same time, eh?!" he said, motioning across the room as the two got up and ran giggling to the lavatory.

"Yeah, they tend to do that," Noah muttered, casually flipping the page of his book without looking up.

Ezekiel put his chin to the table. "Well, then, how are you s'pposed to ever get one by herself, eh?"

Noah looked up, raising an eyebrow in Katie and Sadie's direction. "Why would you want to…you know what? I probably don't want to know," he muttered, returning to his tome.

Ezekiel banged his head against the table. This was the same problem he had faced when he had been trying to talk to Bridgette. Every time she tried to talk to him, she was hanging around Geoff. (Eventually he'd come to realize the two were dating. Who knew, eh?) But ever since she had left for _Total Drama Action_ and his attentions had returned to his _original_ crush, he'd come to realize that Katie and Sadie were even _harder_ to deal with. They were _always_ together. They ate together. They hung out together. They even slept in the same hotel room, despite the fact the studio paid for two. One night they slept in Katie's room, the next in Sadie's. They were like, conjoined twins or something, eh?

It wasn't that Ezekiel didn't like Sadie. They were both friendly to him, so sometimes he would hang around the two of them together. But what he really, _really_ wanted was to get a chance to talk to Katie _alone._

And so he waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And---

He blinked. Sadie got up and walked away from their table. Katie remained sitting there, playing with her straw in an offhanded sort of way.

Ezekiel gaped for a moment. His first thought was, _What could Sadie be getting up for that Katie does want to tag along, if they even time their bathroom breaks together?_

His second thought was, _Who cares?! Go talk to her QUICK, you idiot!_

Ezekiel jumped up quickly to obey this second voice.

"Um…hey, Katie," he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as he approached.

She looked up. "Oh, hey, Zeke!" she said, flashing her big, pearly white smile.

Oh, that smile…Ezekiel felt his legs begin to quaver and suddenly realized he had forgotten how to speak. He shook his head and tried to focus. "Um---so…"

He trailed off. She looked at him, bright expression falling a bit. _EH! Say something!_

"Um…d-did you catch the newest episode? Of the show?" he stammered.

"Oh yeah!" She suddenly frowned. "Oh, I feel so bad for what happened to Bridgette, though." Then she suddenly grinned again, winking. "I bet _she's_ the one you're cheering to win, huh?"

Ezekiel's neck began to burn. "Heh-heh." He cleared his throat again. "So…um, would you like, uh…to maybe, uh…have dinner together, eh?" He spat these last words out quickly, feeling the blush crawl begin to crawl up his neck and across his pale face.

Katie smiled. "Oh, sure!"

Ezekiel's eyes widened as his face spread into a grin. "Really?!"

"Hey, Katie! Found my purse," Sadie said, returning with her shocking pink bag around her arm.

"Cool! Hey, Zeke wants to have dinner with us tonight, if that's okay?"

Ezekiel's red face instantly blanched. "What?" He held up his hands. "No, what I meant was---"

"Okay, cool!" Sadie said, grinning as Katie rose to her feet. "Come on! I've _really_ been wanting to try that Italian place."

"Why not? Chris is paying, hee-hee!" Katie giggled as she and Sadie rushed off. "Come on, Zeke!"

Ezekiel frowned, slumping down as he turned to follow the two out. He sighed inwardly.

Dang. It sure was hard to get that girl alone.

* * *

The hardest thing about writing Ezekiel: using _enough _"eh's" without using _too many._ How did I do, eh?

**Next Interaction:** Beth and Harold.


	4. Beth and Harold: Bugs

**Interaction:** Beth and Harold

The campers continued to discuss their fears for a few minutes before breaking up their little meeting to head back to their respective cabins, the two teams walking together in one large, loose group. Heather was, as usual, barking orders at Lindsay; the usual pre-bedtime commands to prepare her shower, that sort of thing. Beth was hanging back from the two of them, walking purposefully slow at the back of the two teams.

"Hey," a raspy voice from behind her said.

She jumped, spinning around. "Oh," she said, clutching her chest and breathing a sigh of relief. "Hey, Harold."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," he said.

"Oh…don't worry about it."

The other campers' voices were growing more distant; Harold sped up slightly until he and Beth were walking beside each other.

"So, you're afraid of bugs or something?" he asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"Yeah."

He paused. "Why?"

Beth blinked, looking up at him in the dull moonlight. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question. "I dunno. They just…creep me out."

Harold frowned. "Here, lemme show you something."

"Okay..."

He reached into his pocket and dug around for a moment. "Where is…ah, here we go." He cupped his hands together as he pulled something else. "Beth, I'd like you to meet Gulliver."

Beth blinked. "Gulliver? Who's---_agh!_"

She jumped back as Harold opened his hands---he was hold a huge, hairy tarantula, extending one hairy leg as if to reach out and grab her. She jumped back.

"Don't freak out," Harold said, frowning again. He turned his hand to keep "Gulliver" from walking off and falling to the ground. "Don't worry, he's defanged. Even if he wasn't, he couldn't kill you or anything. Could you boy?" he asked, gently stroking the spider's hairy body.

Beth made a face at Gulliver, cringing as it looked up at her and waved its disgusting little mouth-claws at her.

"Those are its chelicerae," Harold said fondly, watching Beth's reaction. She held Gulliver up. "Go on; pet him."

"_Pet him?_"

"Sure. Like I said, he can't hurt you."

"Are you…sure?"

"I've been carrying him around in my pants, of course I'm sure."

They had stopped walking; the others were far ahead of them. Beth looked off, as if hoping someone would come back and give her an excuse not to, then turned back to the spider. It looked up at her with its many beady black eyes, almost curious.

"Go ahead," Harold urged.

Beth hesitated. Then, slowly, carefully, she reached out and very carefully patted its hairy body.

"There, see? It likes you."

"It…does?" Beth said, pausing to hold her hand about a foot above the hairy little beast.

"Yeah. I can tell these kinds of things," Harold said proudly, puffing out his skinny chest.

Beth carefully gave the spider another little pet, a small smile crossing her face.

------------------------------------

"Now Beth, to complete this challenge, you have to _jump_ into this swimming pool full of live worms!"

Harold stood watching from a short distance away with the other Bass as Beth stood by the side of the pool, looking in with a slight frown on her face. Pretty much everyone else on both teams had looks of horror on their face; DJ began to vomit.

Beth looked in for another moment, silently, as if this were nothing more than a slightly challenging puzzle. Then she shrugged, swung herself over the side and fell into the huge pile of writhing worms.

"_And Beth sets the bar way up there!_" Chris cried, as the Gophers broke out in tremendous applause.

Beth grinned triumphantly as she emerged from the pool to the cheers, but her eyes wandered over to the Bass team, and to the one face there not registering either disgust or disappointment.

Harold knew he shouldn't be cheering for an opponent, but he smiled back anyway.

* * *

Gulliver later went on to escape Harold's pocket, overthrow the Prime Minister of Canada and take over Japan.

Ugh, I'm running out of pre-written chapters and with the semester started, I'm thinking these updates are going to have to be less common pretty soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and for those who enjoyed the last chapter, I published a story called "Ezekiel and Katie: A Relationship in 50 Words," if you want to look that up. (It's one of those fifty-random-word-prompt things.) Anyway I hope you enjoyed this, please leave a review!

**Next Interaction:** Geoff and Bridgette.


	5. Geoff and Bridgette: Spaz

Shortest little story yet, but pretty good, I think. And don't worry, fellow weirdos---we'll be going back to non-canon romances and odd friendships next chapter. In the meantime, hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Interaction: **Geoff and Bridgette

Bridgette sighed, feeling her body relax as the soft New Age music flowed mellifluously out of her CD player on the table.

Next to her, Geoff opened his eyes and squirmed, glancing around her living room nervously, before closing his eyes quickly again to keep her from noticing.

Bridgette, sensing this even with her eyes firmly shut, felt a slight twinge of irritation. Geoff really _was_ no good at this meditation thing. It was maybe the one major difference between them: Bridgette's default mode was one of serene contentment. Geoff was rarely stressed, to be sure, but calm? Not one of his strong points.

Well, don't think about that, she scolded herself. Don't think about anything. Just take another deep breath, breathe through your diaphragm, release…she let out another long, contented sigh, all the stress draining away.

Geoff flinched again beside her.

She opened her eyes to send him an annoyed look. He smiled nervously and closed his eyes again. She turned around and went back to her meditation.

Breathe in…breathe out. Breathe in…breathe out. Breathe in...

Then she heard the cheery "Pop Goes the Weasel" music coming from outside.

Geoff tensed immediately, letting out a little gasp as the breath caught in his throat. He no longer squirmed; he trembled. He waited for a seemingly endless moment. Then he opened his mouth and---

"Just go," Bridgette said, without even opening her eyes.

Geoff's face broke into a huge grin. He jumped up, let out a "ICE CREAM! WHOOP!" of glee and ran out the door, not even bothering to close it behind him.

Bridgette shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. "Spaz," she muttered fondly, before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes once again.

* * *

**Next Interaction:** DJ and Sadie. (Trying to go through each character once before I do any repeats; that's becoming mildly problematic, but hopefully I'll figure something out.)


	6. DJ and Sadie: Bunny

**Interaction:** DJ and Sadie

Sadie sniffled as she sat on Bass Cabin steps, wiping her nose and looking sullenly down at the ground.

She felt a large shadow pass over her. "Hey, what's the matter, girl?"

She looked up. "Oh. Hey, DJ," she said sadly, looking back down at the grass. "It's nothing. It's just..." Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and DJ jumped as she grabbed his legs, nearly knocking him over. "I MISS KATIE!" she screamed, burying her face in his knees and sobbing profusely.

"Uh---well, calm down, girl," DJ said awkwardly, gently moving her away from him and sitting down beside her. She sniffled and moved over; neither one being very thin, the steps were a bit crowded with the two of them there. "It'll be okay."

Sadie wiped a tear. "I know," she said, sounding as if she would burst into sobs again at any moment. "It's just---I've never been away from her this long before!"

"For real?"

"Never! Not since we met, anyway." She looked down at the ground again, arms wrapped around her legs. "I really miss her."

DJ bit his lip, looking around awkwardly. He wanted to say something comforting, but couldn't think what. Knowing those two girls, he didn't think _anything_ other than a reunion was going to do much good.

Just then, DJ felt something large and furry stick its head out of his pocket, with some difficulty since that space was occupied by Sadie's voluminous thigh. She let out a scream and jumped, spinning around. "What is that?!"

"Oh, don't worry," DJ said quickly, reaching into his pocket to take the little creature out. "It's just Bunny."

"What?"

"Oh, that's right, you and Katie weren't with the rest of us on that challenge. I found him in the woods," DJ explained, gently running his hand down the little rabbit's back.

Sadie hesitated. "Can I...pet him?"

"Sure!" he said. "Just be gentle. Don't scare him or anything."

Sadie reached out and carefully petted Bunny's head. Bunny closed his eyes happily and allowed it. Sadie smiled.

"Too bad Katie isn't here. She'd say he was _so cute._ Aren't you, little bunny?"

DJ smiled as Sadie, momentarily forgetting her sadness, continued to stroke the happily contented rabbit.

* * *

Yeah, not all that original, but eh, Bunny is a powerful force, and unfortunately DJ doesn't have a lot of other character development to go on.

NOW! That quick drabble over, I have many author's notes. First of all, it took a bit longer to get this up, and you should probably expect a space of a few days between updates, because frankly I have classes. :-\ But in the meantime, you might want to go read the one-shot I published the other day, called "Perfect Opposites." It's Cody/Lindsay, a pairing I'd never seen before but thought would be interesting to explore. I might post more one-shots soon, too, and I really want to post an actual multi-chapter story on this fandom, even though I know I really don't have the time...

Also, congratulations to any Canadian readers who actually are getting to watch TDA already. I hate you all! Ha ha ha...you think I'm kidding, but I'm **_not. _**(And yeah, I know I could just watch it on Youtube if I wanted to.)

Okay, I guess that's all for now. Please review and have a good...however-long-until-I-update-period.

**Next Interaction:** Noah and Justin. This fic needs a bit more hatred...


	7. Noah and Justin: Taken In

**Interaction:** Noah and Justin

And so, anyway, everyone always _says_ that he's some kind of literary genius, but if you ask _me..._

...Katie? Sadie? Um, _hello?_ Are you two even listening to me? Why are you staring...

...he's behind me now, isn't he?

I turn around and sure enough, there he is, about ten feet away, flexing his muscles. _Wow._ Very impressive, that strange ability he has to curve his arm into an unfinished circle. But you just _can't_ look away from him, can you? You're not even listening while I'm complaining to you! There, you just sighed! There was nothing sigh-worthy about what I just said!

Of course, you're not the only ones...no, there's Beth, gazing at him dreamily from her chair, and even Eva, her dumbbell arm fallen as she gazes at him with that happy, stupid look. And look, Lindsay's going over to try and talk to him. I watch as she passes by Tyler, who stares after her, glaring.

His head turns slightly; he and I share a small eye-rolling moment before we look away. Yes, we silently agree, it's pathetic, isn't it? Or rather, horribly annoying. I mean, really, girls, what is this? Do you realize how stupid you look? I glance over at Ezekiel, sitting alone in the hot tub. He has that small frown on his face, the one he reserves for when he's trying to decipher some behavior he doesn't understand. You were all so ticked at him when he said that we males were stronger and smarter than you, but you know what? I'm starting to see his point. On at least this one little issue, you all seem to have the strength and intelligence of...you know what, I can't even finish that analogy. I actually can't think of an ending sufficient to describe this.

This is pathetic. I mean, _really,_ girls. _I_ expected better of you. Isn't it we _men_ who are supposed to be the dumb ones here, the ones who become idiots at the sight of a pretty face? But you don't see any of us getting so gaga over any of you girls. You don't see us becoming mindless zombies whenever you stand up, move, speak, breathe loudly...I mean, you've never seen _me_ turn into an idiot just because Eva walked into the room.

...What? No, I just picked her randomly. No, I do not---er, uh---moving on...

Oh, and _you_. Yeah, don't think I don't see _you._ The cause of all this. Look at you, you're enjoying all this, aren't you? And why not? You're the master of the resort. You're the sultan here, with a completely willing harem of girls whenever you find a reason to rip off your shirt. Which you seem to do. _A lot._ Do you know how many times in my life I've had to rip my shirt off? None. Zero. _Take_ it off, yeah, but just rip it right from your chest, all because you dribbled a little ketchup during lunch? I must say, I wonder how many of those identical green shirts you brought with you...how do you even afford them all, you show-off? I have hand-me-downs from _five_ older brothers, and I couldn't scrounge up enough shirts to match all the torn clothes that you go through in a week. Not that I imagine _you_ know anything about _that,_ Mr. Male Model. Go ahead, tear up as many shirts as you can find, don't worry about all homeless people on the street who could use them, you rich, Apollonian _jerk_.

Oh, yes, now do you're little smile. Pearly whites---oh, look, they sparkled! Just like they _always _do. Even when there's no light source. And look! The girls are swooning! Yeeeeee. How unexpected. And look at you there, soaking it up, basking in your adoring public. I grind my teeth. _So_ annoying...

And here I am, and what do I have to compete with you? An actual brain. A tongue that sometimes moves and produces words. An encyclopedic knowledge of all human literature, history and philosophy stretching back to ancient Babylonia. But look how scrawny my chest is! Oh! No wonder I can't hold someone's attention for more than a minute with you in the room.

Even the other guys seem to get taken in by your charms, and I don't just mean that tub of lard Owen either. All the males of the island seem to think you're just swell; even they smile when you walk by, even they seem to want to get on your good side, even they seem somehow enchanted by you, if not in an explicitly romantic way. Again I look at Tyler. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually feel rather fond of him right now, the way he's glaring as Lindsay tries to chat you up. None of the others seem to care that their girlfriends are throwing themselves at you. Maybe because most of them trust that their girls wouldn't actually stray, or think that you wouldn't really want them, I don't know. The point is, your "powers" (as Izzy calls them) seem to be potent enough to even get most of _them_ on your side. But even your hotness has its limits, Justin.

_I'm_ not falling for it.

You can strut and grin and talk in that rarely-heard, soft little voice of yours, but I won't be pulled in like everyone else. I see you for what you _really_ are.

Stupid. Vain. Seductive. A beautiful mask put over an empty head. But I'm smart, Justin. I don't care about looks. I don't get seduced easily, and I can see through your mask.

I'm everything you're not. The anti-you. And I _won't_ be taken in.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed that, and as always, please read and review!

**Next Interaction: **Tyler and Eva


	8. Tyler and Eva: Arm Wrestling

**JoeMerl: **Okay, guys, sorry for the late update. Anyway, this is a Tyler and Eva chapter---

**Random Read:** Wait. Didn't you say the next chapter would be Cody and Leshawna?

**JoeMerl: **No, go back, you'll see it was Tyler and Eva. Anyway---

**Random Reader:** But I could have sworn---

*SLAP!*

**Random Reader:** OW!

**JoeMerl: **Any more questions? I thought not. So, hope you enjoy!

(Seriously, though, there's a reason I'm saving that chapter for later.)

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Tyler and Eva

"Eugh...eugh..."

"Come on...yeah..."

The two faces contorted with effort, hands joined, elbows on the dining hall table. The strain on Tyler's face mixed with growing triumph, Eva's with mounting fear.

"Oh...no...you...don't..."

"Oh...yes...I...DO!"

And with that, Tyler's arm forced Eva's down onto the table. Her eyes went wide, face falling as Tyler pumped his fists into the air. "WHA-HOO! I WIN!"

"No! That's impossible!"

"Boo-yah! That's right! Who's the man! Not you! _Me!_"

Tyler crossed his arms with a wide, victorious grin. Eva continued to stare at the table in astonishment.

"No one's _ever_ beaten me at arm-wrestling before..."

"Until now, bitch! Ha!"

Tyler continued to grin. Eva looked away from him, then finally turned, a strange look in her eyes.

"Alright, fine. You won. Fair and square. You have defeated me."

"Yes I did! WHOO!"

"But you know..." She took a step towards him, staring at him with laser-focus, "...I always swore that I would never submit to any man, save for one who could defeat me in combat."

Tyler blinked. "Huh?"

"You have proven yourself stronger than me, brave warrior," Eva said, taking another step forward---Tyler took an instinctive step back, stumbled on the bench and fell into it. "And now, I shall accept you as my lover."

"What?!"

She suddenly grabbed his head, pulled him close and kissed him. Tyler resisted for a moment, but a second later returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around her.

* * *

"Agh!"

He sat up suddenly in bed in the Killer Bass cabin, banging his head on the bunk above him. As he jumped, something slipped off his lap and onto the floor beside him.

Head spinning, Tyler blinked and reached over the side of the bed to pick up what fell. It was a worn paperback featuring a scantily-clad warrior woman. The title at the top declared it to be _THE ADVENTURES OF XESEXIA: AMAZON QUEEN._

Tyler shook his throbbing head. "I gotta stop reading Harold's stupid fantasy novels before bed," he muttered, dropping the book back on the floor before rolling over and going back to sleep.

* * *

Just a little play on the old "Atalanta cliche" in fantasy stories...perhaps a bit esoteric, and I wrote this a bit fast. Did it turn out alright? I hope you enjoyed.

**Next Interaction:** Courtney and Chris


	9. Courtney and Chris: Blade

Hey! Sorry it's taken me a while to get to this...I've got too many things in the works, I'll admit. I'll try to do better. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Courtney and Chris

"No...please..."

She leaned his chair back; Chris was now laying down, head falling lower than his chest, unable to move from the strap around his neck. Courtney leaned over, the blade in her hand.

"You don't want me to do it? Then _give me what I want,_" she demanded, brown eyes narrowing in fury.

Chris sputtered. "I---I can't. We have to let it play out naturally---we need more drama, it would be better to leave him---_AGH!_"

The blade slid across his cheek. His eyes widened as he struggled against his restraints. "_No!_"

"_Give me what I want!_"

Chris was breathing hard. "They'll probably just do it themselves anyway!" he screamed. "What if---okay, we'll make sure the Bass don't get immunity? Then it can just work itself out---"

The blade flashed again. "Agh!"

"Don't treat me like an idiot, Maclain! I know you'll just find some way to save him, for the sake of your stupid script! I want him out _NOW!_" The blade lowered back towards his neck. "Unless you want me to _finish_ the job?"

Chris began to sob. This was too much, too much...he sputtered something incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

Chris took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright...alright. If the Bass don't vote him off themselves, I'll...I'll make sure he gets kicked off."

She smirked. "There, see?" she said, putting the blade down slowly. "That wasn't so hard, now, _was_ it?"

Grinning maliciously, she undid the straps on his arms, legs and neck, and then swept out of the room. He sat up, shaking, breathing hard.

Oh well. They had wanted to keep Harold on for a bit longer...he was a fan favorite, and anyway, he really wanted to wait until Duncan figured out that he was the one who switched the votes to get Courtney voted off in the first place. He and the producers had considered the whole "next-episode-karma-kick-off"...he'd just have to convince them it was the better way to go after all.

His eyes wandered to the little table by his chair, and to the small blade that sat there.

The Gilette Mach Four razor sat there innocently enough, gleaming in the light. Chris trembled at the sight of it. Slowly, his hand traveled up to his cheeks, to the two little spots now smooth of any hair...it would have been so easy for her to finish the job, to bring that blade across his whole neck and face...Chris brought his hand across his neck, wiping the fluffy shaving cream from his precious, precious stubble. Man. It would have taken him _days_ to regrow that.

Rising to his feet, still trembling at the near calamity that had just occurred, Chris got off the Playa des Losers beach chair and walked out of the room.

* * *

Because I'm just weird that way.

**Next Interaction:** Izzy and Chef


	10. Chef and Izzy: No More Than Usual

**Current Interaction:** Chef and Izzy

He stood there, glaring at her, a meat cleaver gleaming in one hand.

She stood there, trapped, holding a package of cookies.

They stared at each other. Both sets of eyes narrowed.

He cast the cleaver away, cracking his knuckles.

She put the package under one arm, not willing to put it down, cricking her neck.

The two remained motionless for a moment. Then---

"_AAAGGGHHH!_"

"_HIIIIII-YAH!_"

PUNCH!PUNCH!PUNCH!PUNCH!PUNCH! went Chef's fists, aiming for any part of her that he could reach.

DODGE!DODGE!DODGE!DODGE!DODGE! Izzy's body flew, faster than a snake, managing to evade each and every blow as she dropped to the floor, kicking at his feet to trip him, but he was too quick; he leapt into the air and avoided her attack, and she let out a cry of surprise, pulling back her arm just as Chef's boot would have smashed her arm into bits.

In a flash she was up again, just as he spun around, fist out and flying, as heavy and strong as a cinder block.

Izzy ducked again just as it passed over her head, then leapt back up as he spun around, grabbed him by the head, pulled him forward and kissed him.

Chef's limbs stiffened in surprise, and as Izzy released him be stumbled back, spitting and sputtering. This gave Izzy just enough time to leap into the air, fly over his head and crash through the window.

"YOU'LL NEVER GET ME ALIVE!" she screamed, cackling maniacally as she raced off into the night.

Chef stared out the window after her, paused, then shook his head, deciding not to follow. He turned back towards his kitchen, spitting again and wiping his mouth with a grimace. "I hope none of the cameras saw that," he muttered. "Like I don't got enough legal problems as it is..."

----------------------------

The door to the Gopher cabin opened. "Oh, Owen! I got those cookies you wanted!"

"Oh, cookies! AWESOME!" he screamed, grabbing them from Izzy and pulling her into a tight bear hug with one arm. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble getting them?"

"Eh," she said, waving her hand. "None more than usual."

* * *

Do I consider this romance? Kinda, but not really; I imagine Izzy probably does stuff like this a lot.

Does Owen know how Izzy got the cookies? Probably not. Would be care? Again, probably not; cookies are cookies, after all.

**Next Interaction:**Duncan and Owen. Which may take a while because I don't know what to write...


	11. Duncan and Owen: Clowns

**Current Interaction:** Duncan and Owen

Duncan stood in line outside the communal bathroom, eyelids drooping. Man was he tired. All he wanted to do was take a shower and go right to sleep.

The enormous Gopher guy moved into line behind him. Huh. Who knew _he_ bathed?

"Hey," he said cheerfully, wiggling his chubby fingers.

"Don't talk."

The Gopher frowned and was silent. But not for long. "My name is Owen," he said. "I'm still trying to get to know everyone, what was your name again?"

"Duncan."

"Oh! I like that name," Owen said, giggling. "It sounds funny."

Duncan glared at him out of the corner of one eye. "'Funny' how?"

"Just...funny."

"What do you mean, _funny, _tubby? Do I amuse you? Am I clown?"

"_OH,_ that's it! It sounds like a clown name!"

Duncan blinked, drawing back from his "intimidating look." "Uh...what?"

"Yeah! I don't know why, but that name just makes me think of clowns for some reason. Ha-ha."

Duncan stared at him for a moment, wondering if it would be simplier to just punch his lights out than continue this conversation. But just then DJ came out of the shower, freeing one up, and Duncan decided it wouldn't be worth the effort.

"Later, man," Duncan said simply, rolling his eyes.

Duncan went to take a shower. And at that point Owen blinked, realized this wasn't the line for dinner, and smacked himself in the head before running for the cafeteria.

* * *

Yeah...sorry if this sucks, but I just wanted to get something up, since it's been a month since I updated. I'll try to do better in the future. And...yeah. Somehow "Duncan" just doesn't strike me as a very intimidating name if you think about it. And for some reason, it _does _make me kind of think of clowns. Is there some clown named Duncan I'm thinking of? If there isn't there should be.

**Next Interaction: **Cody and Leshawna. And then I'll have done everyone! Ha, good for me. Don't know if this'll come before or after I update "Crossing the Line," though...oh, and if you haven't, go read "Crossing the Line!" It's Cody/Lindsay. Come on, isn't that weird enough to pique your interest at least?


	12. Cody and Leshawna: Suspicious

A new chapter, and with it, I've now done every camper! But don't worry, I will continue on now; the point of this collection is to do a whole bunch of different little drabbles. I plan to do at least twenty-five of these, and after that, probably more in an "occasionally update, never really finished" sort of way. Anyway, for all the Cody and Leshawna fans, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Cody and Leshawna

"Hmm..."

Cody shifted his shoulders slightly, a bit cold in the cool night air. Sitting on a sand dune, he had before him a rather calm and beautiful view of the dark Wawanakwa Lake reflecting the silvery moonlight and stars. But his face was turned away, idly watching a scene about thirty yards down the shore, as Trent and Gwen sat together on the Dock of Shame, the occasional drift of guitar music drifting down to him on the wind.

A slight smile played on his face for a moment, though it suddenly faded when a shadow above him blocked away the little light he had.

"Huh. I didn't think it was that cloudy," he muttered, leaning back to look up at the sky.

"Oh, it ain't rain you got to worry about, Short Stuff."

Cody jumped slightly and he spun around to see one of his fellow Gophers---the source of the long shadow---standing a few feet behind him. "Oh. Hey, Leshawna."

Leshawna didn't answer, and Cody's bright expression fell. "Everything okay?" he asked nervously. Based on that scowl and the arms crossed over her chest---an expression she usually reserved for the likes of Heather---he kind of doubted the answer would be in the affirmative.

"I don't know. _You_ get to tell _me. _Now, what _exactly _are you playin' at with Gwen and Trent?"

"Huh?"

"Don't you play stupid with me, boy."

"I'm not playing, I really am stupid." Pause. "That...didn't come out right."

Leshawna rolled her eyes. "Don't think I don't know you're up to something. Everybody in the camp knows you have it bad for Gwen, but now I'm hearing something 'bout you helping to hook the two of them up, and _I_ don't buy it. And _why_ exactly is Owen doing your dishes tonight? All I know is he mentioned something about a _bra?_"

"Oh. Heh-heh." Cody rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "That's...pretty much unrelated."

"Alright, then, back to my original question. What are you planning with Gwen and Trent?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"No, really! What do you think?"

"I _think_ you got some kind of plan, trickin' them into thinkin' you're helping them so you can either get Gwen to yourself or get ahead in this contest somehow. So you just tell me what you're planning right now, 'cause if you wind up trying to screw my friend over, I'm gonna have to put the beat-down on you."

"What?! N---no! I'm not---_planning_ anything!"

Leshawna scoffed. "I believe that."

"No, it's true! I just---realized Gwen didn't like me as much as Trent, so I kind of helped them out a little. That's it."

"And you seriously expect me to believe _that?_"

"Um...yeah?"

Leshawna gave him a look, then frowned. Both his tone and expression were completely frank; he didn't sound hopeful that she would believe him, but rather, downright confused at the fact that she apparently didn't. Her eyes narrowed, searching for some sort of guile; she had had a lot of practice reading the minute clues that someone was trying to pass bull on her. Instead, she found nothing on Cody's face except true blank confusion.

Leshawna uncrossed her arms, looking at him with a slight frown. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He still sounded puzzled by this whole conversation.

Leshawna didn't answer, but went to sit beside him on the sand. He watched her, still frowning slightly. She, however, looked past him across the beach to where Gwen and Trent were still laughing down by the dock.

She turned her attention back to Cody. "You know, that was a pretty decent thing you did, setting Gwen and Trent up together like that. But haven't you been crushin' on that girl ever since we all got here?"

"Well...not the _whole_ time," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck again.

"Then why help them get together?"

He shrugged. "Well, it turns out Gwen doesn't really like me like that...which kind of surprised me, but I mean, no big deal. And Trent's always been really cool to me, so, you know, I thought, why not put in a good word?"

"Huh." Leshawna shook her head, giving him a look out of the corner of her eye. "Cody man, you are one in a million, you know that?"

"Ah..." He looked embarrassed. "No I'm not. It really wasn't that big of a deal. And besides," he added slyly, leaning back with his arms behind him for support, "now this gives me a chance to pursue some other romantic venues, _n'est pas?_"

He grinned and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. He meant it to be a joke (well, half-joke at least), but Leshawna suddenly drew back, eyes narrowed.

"Huh? _You_ the one been leaving me those _love notes?_"

Cody blinked, sitting up again. "Love notes? What love notes?"

Leshawna examined her face again, and once again found no sense of deceit anywhere. "...Never mind," she said slowly, looking carefully away.

* * *

Leshawna dialogue is hard. How did I do?

**Next Interaction:** Cody and Harold. To be posted tomorrow!


	13. Cody and Harold: Sly

**Current Interaction: **Cody and Harold

"Well, Short Stuff," Leshawna said, brushing sand off of her jeans as she stood, "been nice talkin' to ya. I'm just gonna go snag a shower before I turn in."

"Okay," Cody said, waving. "See ya later."

Leshawna headed off. Cody remained sitting for a few moments, then got up to head back to the campgrounds too.

Just as he was approaching the Gopher cabin, the door on the girl's side opened, and a lanky figure came out. Cody's eyes slid across the figure briefly, then did a double take when he saw that it was not Lindsay or Heather or Izzy, but Harold, looking around wildly, back against the wall as he slowly inched away.

"Harold?"

"_Agh!_"

He jumped so high he managed to bash his head against the porch canopy. "Agh! _Idiots!_"

Cody forced down a snicker as best he could. "Sorry man. But, uh...what were you doing in there?"

Harold, who had been rubbing his head, suddenly froze, biting his lip. "Uh...wh-what do you mean?" he said nervously, tapping his fingers together.

"Well, you were just in the _our _team's cabin." Pause. "On the girl's side."

"Oh. Well, uh---I was just, uh---um...looking for someone?"

"Oh. ...Who?"

"Uh...I was looking for, uh...uh, uh---Gwen!"

"Gwen?" _Oh what, does _he_ have a crush on her too?_

"Yeah. I, uh, just---I was hoping to get my ant farm back. Yeah, that's it! You know, from before...when she borrowed it...yeah."

Cody raised an eyebrow. "But, uh...she wasn't there," Harold added lamely. "So...I'm gonna---uh...yeah."

And with that he quickly turned and raced back to the Bass cabin as fast as he could.

Cody continued to frown at the place where Harold had been standing for a moment, then shook his head and started to head around the building to the guy's side.

_Man, that Harold guy could be weird sometimes,_ Cody thought._ I wonder what he was really up to. I hope he doesn't really have a crush on Gwen or anything. I mean, that would be really..._

He suddenly stopped, turning around. A thought had just occurred to him.

He slowly walked back to the girl's side of the cabin and stuck his head in. It was empty; all the girls were probably in the bathrooms getting ready for bed. Cody stuck his head back out, looked around to make sure no one was coming, then slowly entered the room.

Now, which of these beds...then he spotted one with some of Leshawna's clothes thrown onto it. That would probably be it.

He creeped over, took another look around to make sure no one was going to catch him, then lifted up the pillow. There was a small, folded piece of paper under it.

Smirking, Cody picked it up and unfolded it, giving the poem a quick look. His eyebrows shot up momentarily, then he chuckled. "Why Harold, you sly dog you." Then he quickly replaced the note, put the pillow carefully back over it and swept out of the room, still laughing under his breath.

* * *

And this is why I put off doing the "Cody and Leshawna" chapter---so that I could write a sequel drabble without interrupting my whole "every camper" thing. ;-) Hope you guys enjoyed this, please leave a review!

**Next Interaction: **Gwen's brother and Trent. That's right, thinking outside the box now.


	14. Gwen's Brother and Trent: Resemblance

**Current Interaction:** Gwen's brother and Trent

"So," Trent said, hugging Gwen from behind and grinning down at her face, "are you ready for the best three-month anniversary of your life?"

She giggled. "Alright," she said, pulling herself away from him. "But first I gotta grab my purse. Be right back."

"I'll be waiting," he said dreamily, as Gwen giggled unGwenishly and ran off to her room.

Trent smiled after her, then leaned back on the balls of his feet, looking around the small living room. So, this was Gwen's place. He had half-expected it to be covered with the kinds of things Gwen liked---dark colors and artwork---but overall it looked just like any normal living room. Which made sense, after all, since it would be Gwen's mom who decorated...

"Hello there. _Trent._"

"Gah!"

He spun around, eyes darting for the source of the sound. He found it a moment later in the form of a short, lanky boy leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him from beneath a backwards baseball cap.

Trent sighed, putting a hand to his chest. "Whoo. Startled me for a minute there, little guy." (The boy's eyes narrowed coldly.) "You must be Gwen's little brother, right?"

The boy gave a curt nod, still impassive. Trent gave him another up-and-down look. He didn't look much like Gwen---he wasn't pale like she was, and the tangled hair coming out from his hat was a dark brown (though then again, Trent realized he had no idea what Gwen's natural color was). And he was apparently a lot quieter, and that was saying something. He didn't seem to wear the same dark clothes that Gwen preferred either, though Trent could detect a certain similarity in the siblings' styles, based on the skull decal featured prominently on his T-shirt.

"Gwen's told me a lot about you."

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you too," the boy said, his eyes narrowing even more as he slowly unfolded his arms and walked into the room.

"Heh-heh...well, I just hope it wasn't from any of those tabloid stories or anything," Trent joked. The boy didn't laugh.

"No...I found out plenty about you from the show," he growled, coming to a stop about a foot away from Trent. "Made sure to keep a _careful_ eye on you..."

"Er...right," Trent said, leaning backwards slightly and giving him an odd look. "Er---why?"

"I'm sure you can figure it out if you try hard enough, Brainiac."

"Ah..." Trent suddenly chuckled. "Okay, I get it. I have sisters too. Let me guess---you don't like me because I'm dating Gwen, right?"

"No, but it's not really a question of 'like,'" the boy said, making quotations in the air. "It's a question of 'trust.' I already saw what happened between you and the Bitchy Balding Bitch-Bitch the day you got voted off."

"Well trust me, _that's_ never going to happen again."

"Still, keep in mind, that's one strike against you from the start."

Trent grinned. "And let me guess---three strikes I'm out, right?"

"No, two strikes you're _DEAD!"_ the boy suddenly screamed, rising onto the toes of his sneakers and jabbing Trent in the chest---the latter drew back, startled, as Gwen's brother leaned over him, their faces an inch apart. "If you ever cheat on, or in any other way hurt my sister EVER again, I will make your whole stay on that stupid island seem like a picnic in the park, you got that?! I will take every bizarre accident that ever happened to you there and subject you to them again _at once!_ I will take your guitar, rip off its strings, and make them into a noose that I will use to _strangle you to death!_ _CAPISCE?!_"

Trent nodded quickly, cowering under Gwen's brother's glare. It was a pretty bizarre sight---Trent was several years older and almost a full, oddly-shaped head taller, with an arm almost as big around as the younger boy's chest. Gwen's brother was standing on his tiptoes just to _almost_ match him in height. Trent probably could have knocked him out in one punch if he wanted to, but at the moment, all he could think to do was nod quickly and hope the scary child would go away.

The boy leaned back slightly, but remained on his toes, glaring down at his sister's cowering boyfriend. Trent slowly straightened up, still shaking slightly. "Yeah, okay. Got it, dude."

"_Good._"

There was a pause. "...Wasn't that a movie?"

"What?!"

"That---guitar-string strangling thing. Isn't that a scene from Gwen's favorite horror movie or something?"

The boy finally fell back onto the soles of his feet, suddenly transforming from a semi-demonic monster back into your average surly fourteen-year-old boy. "_Psychomaniacs II._ _Our _favorite movie and the only horror sequel EVER to better than the original."

Trent chuckled weakly. "You really are Gwen's brother, aren't you?"

"Damn straight, Casanova."

"Trent? Oh, hey..."

Both spun around as Gwen came in the room, carrying a black handbag. She frowned as she saw her boyfriend and her brother standing only a few inches apart. "What are you two _doing _in here? I could hear you shouting all the way from my room."

"Huh? Oh, nothing, Gwen," her brother said calmly, suddenly giving Trent a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I was just saying hi to your new boyfriend here. Nice to meet you, Trent." He turned and gave Trent a big smile---except that, head turned slightly so that Gwen couldn't see, his eyes were narrowed into another vicious glare. "Be seeing you around..."

And with that he spun on his heels and walked casually out of the room.

-------------

"So, what did you think of my brother?" Gwen asked, holding Trent by the arm a few minutes later as they walked out of the house for their date.

Trent cleared his throat. "He's, um...a lot like you, sort of," he said simply, with a small shiver of fear running up his spine.

* * *

I went through the whole chapter without having to say what his name was...though it came out a bit awkwardly, I think. I'm torn between two ideas---Brian (which I came up with) and Kevin (which I stole from Nikki-kun05). Somehow it seems absurdly important that I pick the "right" one...any opinions? Also, as far as I know, there is no such movie as _Psychomaniacs II,_ though that title is kind of cool so I kind of wish there was.

**Next Interaction: **Duncan and Courtney. 'Cause I know some of you have been waiting for that. ;-) And to my fellow crack pairing authors...eh, I promise I'll pick something nice for you guys after that.


	15. Duncan and Courtney: For You

**Author's Notes: **Okay, first let me start by saying, yes, I know this chapter took forever to get up; the thing is, I tend to write fanon romance; my like for a specific pairing tends to be negatively proportionate to how many people have already written it, so naturally, getting up the motivation for a D/C story was kind of hard. But I've been really encouraged by all the people who are still reviewing this, asking me to continue (particularly you, Intrigued Soul ;-), and so I've decided just to bite the bullet and get it done. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Duncan and Courtney

Duncan stopped the car and froze, staring blankly out the window, a look of terror on his face.

For a long moment neither of them spoke. Then he broke the silence with a shaky voice, trying to sound cheerful.

"Well...here we are."

Courtney reached over and took his hand, squeezing it encouragingly. He looked up and saw her smiling at him in the dim light. He smiled back, but it was a twitchy, terrified smile.

"Are you ready to get out?"

"What? Yeah, of course," Duncan said, even as every muscle in his body clenched in mortal terror. "Come on, let's go."

They stepped out of the car into the cool night. Courtney shivered and allowed Duncan to help her put her coat on before the two headed for their destination.

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap. What am I going to do?_

The parking lot was full of people, all heading from their cars to the stadium, talking excitedly, laughing, some even singing because they _wanted_ to be here. Duncan gulped loudly, a move that was not lost on his girlfriend.

"It'll be fine," Courtney said, squeezing his hand again. "I promise."

"Yeah? Okay. Okay, yeah, I---I---oh man, no!"

They were only a few yards from the ticket counter when Duncan froze; he brought his hands up defensively, breaking contact with Courtney, shaking his head. "No-no-no, no way, I'm sorry, Court, but I _can't _do this!"

"What?!" Courtney's whole face fell. "Sure you can, Duncan! Remember, we've been through this---"

"No, no, no, I don't care, I just---can't!" He took a shaky step back, trembling from the tip of his mohawk to the toes of his boots. "You can't make me!"

"But Duncan!" Courtney looked around; people were starting to stare. She lowered her voice, leaning in closer to him. "It'll be _good_ for you!"

"No, no it won't! _Fleeing_ from here will be good for me! Staying here, not so much!"

"Please, Duncan!"

"No! No no no no no no no---"

Suddenly Duncan felt her fingers wrap around his hand again. He looked up to see her eyes sparkling at him hopefully.

"Please? ...For me?"

For a moment Duncan couldn't breathe. Then he let out a long sigh, took in another deep breath, and nodded.

"Alright. For you. But listen!" he said, as her face broke into a smile. "If I do this, _for you,_ then---then there's not going to be any more of this---mushy relationship crap, got that?! No more of this, 'oh, Duncan, how do I know you really love me?,' or 'why don't we ever just talk anymore?,' or any of that shit! 'Cause _this_" he waved his hands around at the stadium, the people, all the horror and terrible doom all around him, "this, me putting up with this---this is it, babe, this is undeniable _proof_ of how much I love you. After this, I am in the clear of _all_ unpleasant boyfriend responsibilities up until our first wedding anniversary, you got it?!"

Courtney rolled her eyes, but also grinned a bit. "That seems like a fair trade."

"Okay then." Duncan took one last deep breath. "Here we go, then."

They approached the ticket booth. "Two tickets, please."

"Here you go," Duncan said, trembling as he handed them over.

"Thank you, sir. Enjoy the show."

Duncan gave a jerky nod, his face ghost-white as Courtney led him away. The ticket-taker---who had been watching their whole odd conversation from his post---merely shook his head, just as a shrill woman's voice rang out through the night.

"Man. Granted she's not the best, but I've never seen anyone make such a fuss over a measly little Celine Dion concert before..."

* * *

**A/N:** No offense is intended towards Celine Dion or her fans, I just thought this would be a funny story to write.

**Next Interaction: **Duncan and Leshawna. A little LeDunca romance to make this up to all my fellow fanon fans. ;-) But be warned, D/C fans might not like this one.


	16. Duncan and Leshawna: Love It

**Author's Notes:** Sorry again for the huge wait. There were a lot of problems with this chapter---one, TDA Courtney turned out to be very different than I imagined her, so I had to re-plan this to fit that mold, and two, I had a hard time writing this in a way that didn't bash Duncan/Courtney _too_ much, while also explaining why I like this pairing more. (Well, other than the fact that Winter-Rae doesn't write DxC.) I hope I did a good job. XD

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Duncan and Leshawna

In the end, Duncan had no choice but to break up with Courtney.

It wasn't because she was "mean," or "harsh," or any of those stupid complaints the others were making; Duncan _liked_ her being all badass and nasty, reveled in the way the dark side had finally emerged from that Ms.-Goody-Two-Shoes she'd been at the start of TDI. He didn't mind that she was rude to the other contestants, that she schemed and connived, no, that was dumb; that was what he had _wanted,_ after all, heck, what he had _worked for,_ poking fun at her and tempting her and finally drawing her to let that faux good side go and embrace the viciousness inside her.

Duncan didn't mind that Courtney was evil. What ticked Duncan off was that she just wasn't any _fun._

She screamed, of course, when he finally broke it off; she screamed and yelled and kicked him in the groin, and then, to top it all off, she sued him. _Yeah._ That, of course, was it for Duncan; if he had had any doubts, this proved that he and Courtney were never meant to be. Everything was always about _rules, her_ rules, she couldn't even do a _breakup_ right for Pete's sake. The first time a girl broke up with Duncan, what did he do? What any sane man would: write her phone number on the bathroom wall along with a rather descriptive and vulgar ad, and get suspended a week later because of it. But no, Courtney was going to twist the rules, try to claim mental anguish or some shit like that so that she could get her revenge all official and legal-like. As Harold rather geekily put it, Duncan was Chaotic Evil, but Courtney was Lawful; _that_ was what Duncan couldn't stand, not the nastiness, but the fact that underneath it all she was just such a---_bitch! _And _damn_ did he hate it.

Then Duncan started to date Leshawna.

Leshawna, it turned out, was just the opposite of Courtney. Where Courtney was rude, Leshawna was friendly; where Courtney was uptight, Leshawna was calm and laid-back. Courtney was implacable, flying into a rage if Duncan hit on her but flying into an _equal _rage if he so much as talked to any other girl. When Duncan teased Leshawna, Leshawna teased him right back, and she didn't care if he was friends with Gwen or any other chick---though she made it clear she'd kill him if he ever tried anything more.

Duncan felt like he was free now. He could finally flirt, he could finally see his friends, he could finally have a conversation about something other than strategy and get an actual response. He was having _fun_ again, all the fun that Courtney never wanted to have. Finally, someone who was cool instead of preppy, calm instead of uptight, nice instead of mean---

Well, scratch that last one, Duncan thought. _That _one turned out to be a problem, because Duncan _liked_ a certain amount of evil, and Leshawna...not so much. And while Duncan had spent a lot of time and effort fostering that dark side in Courtney, _Leshawna_ had the idea of doing the same thing to Duncan_---in reverse._ Which turned out to be the cause of their first major fight.

It had been so _stupid,_ too---all he was going to do was put itching powder all over Harold's clothes and bedsheets, and he thought Leshawna would want to help---I mean, what girl _wouldn't_ want to play a prank like that on her ex? Instead the two wound up on opposite sides of the room, screaming at each other---oh no, you ain't gonna do that, she said, oh yes I am, he said, and why the hell not, you never seemed to have a problem when I did this to Heather or Courtney? That was different, she screamed, and you know it, Harold didn't do nothing to you so why you always teasing him? Because it's funny! Ain't nothing funny about being a jerk! Yes there is! No there ain't! Well I'm doing it! No!

Back and forth they raged for at least ten minutes, before finally Leshawna threw up her hands and declared that if Duncan went through with his prank, the two of them were over. Well FINE! Duncan screamed, and threw the itching powder to the ground---which wound up working against him, since the whole thing exploded up in his face. He spun around, ignoring the snorts of laughter from onlookers as he stormed away, seething and hissing and already starting to scratch himself as he ran to the showers to wash this crap off.

Damn Leshawna! What, she thinks she can control him?! The way she stood up to him like that, the way she screamed, as far as he was concerned she was just like Courtney, except _without_ dropping that stupid goody persona. Using her own voice instead of a lawyer, her own threats instead of a painful kick, it didn't matter, she was still such a---_bitch!_

And Duncan didn't want to admit it at the moment, but _damn,_ did he love it.

* * *

**A/N: **I don't know if this came out as good on the screen as it did in my head...does the ending make sense to anyone, or does it just seem like a contradiction that Duncan dislikes Courtney but likes Leshawna? Did I make the point clear? Please review and let me know.

**Next Interaction:** Cody and Beth, since Total Drama Addict has been so patient. ;-) Now to just figure out what I'm gonna write...


	17. Cody and Beth: New Year's

_CRASH! _"Oops! Sorry, Geoff!" Bridgette called from somewhere nearby, raising her voice over the loud, pulsing music.

"Nah, it's cool, Bridge, my mom never really liked that vase anyway!" Geoff called, speaking into a microphone from his spot next to the massive speakers. "Alright, everyone, the TV's telling us we only got another couple of minutes 'til the ball drops, so everybody get ready and grab yourselves a rockin' babe to smooch on! Chya!"

"Agh! Duncan, let go of me!"

The crowd laughed as Courtney pulled away from Duncan and stalked away into the crowd. Cody snickered from his position next to the refreshment tables as Beth covered her mouth, giggling.

"This is great. You know, I've never been to a real New Yearth party before," Beth gushed, both hands clasping her cup of punch in her excitement.

"Really?" Cody asked, raising an eyebrow. "I throw one every year!"

"Really?"

"Well...my parents do, anyway," Cody admitting, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Mostly for my dad's business partners. But I always invite my friends over too. But half of them were away for Winter Break this year, anyway."

"Ah." Beth nodded, fiddling with the straw in her drink. "Well, my family kind of doesth sthtuff like that too. Except it's justh a little party, you know, my mom and dad and me. And my pigsth," she added.

"Well that still sounds cool!"

"It isth, I look forward to it every year!" Beth said cheerfully. Then her face suddenly fell as she looked down into her cup. "Exthept we couldn't do it thisth year."

"Why not?"

"My grandma fell down and broke her hip, so my parents had to fly out to Halifax to see her."

"Oh." Cody frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Well, she'll be okay," Beth said, her tone perking up. "But it kind of sthinks that my mom and dad have to be taking care of her tonight. At leastht it happened on Boxthing Day, though, stho nobody'sth Christhmas got ruined or anything."

"Well, that's good. I think---"

The suddenly the music stopped and they both looked up, startled. "Listen up, dudes and dudettes!" Geoff called out, pointing his remote at the big-screen TV taking up half of one wall.

"---fifteen seconds left, everyone here is very excited, Bob---"

"Oh, it's almost time!" Beth said, grinning her silvery grin at Cody.

"_TEN!_" the TV people along with most of the party-goers chanted.

"_NINE!_" Cody and Beth both chimed in, as he returned her smile, amused as she actually began to tremble with excitement.

"_EIGHT---SEVEN---SIX---FIVE---FOUR---THREE---TWO---ONE---_"

"_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_" the room erupted, and Cody and Beth both turned to each other again, grinning and raising their drinks in the air. Cody took a step forward, holding out his little paper cup to playfully tap against her own---then suddenly stumbled on his own untied shoelace and windmilled his arms, his punch spilling wildly.

"_Whoa---_"

"_Agh!_"

Cody fell forward right on top of Beth and they both crashed down to the floor. And, in the process, bumped their foreheads together, followed shortly by their mouths.

The two geeks both froze. Beth turned bright red. Cody, however, just looked shocked for a moment, then grinned and wriggled his eyebrow down at her. "Well, that's _one _way to ring in the new year," he mused.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Was that long or amazingly clever? No. Was it cute? Hopefully. ;-) I actually went through a few ideas for these two, then just randomly grabbed at this because I wanted to publish something for New Year's (which is this fanfic's birthday, incidentally. Wow...it should be farther along by now.) I hope you all enjoyed, especially you, TDAddict! :-D And Happy New Year, everyone!

P.S.: This fic recently passed 6,000 hits and 100 reviews (Winter-Rae got the 100th---fittingly for the LeDunca chapter). Thanks a ton!

**Next Interaction:** Katie and Sadie, because I've done three romances in a row and only _one_ female-female interaction in this entire collection so far.


	18. Katie and Sadie: Fight

**Author's Notes:** Sorry! It's been a long time, hasn't it? Anyway, I originally had a more interesting and psychological idea in mind that was sweet and gave a lot of insight into their relationship and everything...but then I got this much sillier idea, so the original idea got promoted to It's Own One-Shot to Be Written Later, while now you get this. Enjoy!

* * *

**Current Interaction: Katie and Sadie**

"Oh my gosh, Sadie, I, like---I can't even _believe_ you right now!"

"Oh _my _gosh, would you stop having such a freakin' _cow?!_"

Noah groaned and buried himself deeper into his book, hoping that would somehow drown out the Wonder Twins' noise.

It didn't work.

"I mean---how could you even _do_ this to me, Sadie? Have you just been, like, _lying_ to me all this entire time, huh?!"

"Okay, yes! Yes, I lied!" Sadie said, waving her arms. "But you know what? You didn't give me a _choice,_ Katie! Look at the way you're reacting, what was I supposed to do?!"

"I just can't believe this---"

"I can't believe _you!_ It's, like, not even a big deal!"

"It's the _BIGGEST_ deal!"

"You see?! I can't even _talk_ to you!"

"_Uggghhh..._" Noah sank into the couch, putting his book on his head as if trying to use it to block out the noise.

"You can't talk to _me?_ Well, that's fine, because I don't even _want_ to talk to _you_ anymore!"

"Oh yeah?"

"_Yeah!_"

The two girls brought their faces within inches of each other, Katie bending down, Sadie standing on her toes. Then, in perfect unison, they both straightened and spun around, crossing their arms over their chests and refusing to look at each other.

"Well that's _fine,_ then," Sadie said. "If you're going to be, like, _so_ immature about this---"

"_Hmph!_"

"---then I guess we're just, like, not _friends_ anymore!"

"Fine by me!"

"_Fine!_"

They both "hmph"ed one last time before turning their up their noses and glaring in opposite directions. Silence fell over the room.

Noah sighed. _Well, now,_ he thought, taking the book off from his head and finding his place again. _Maybe I can _finally_ get some peace._

He went back to his novel. After a moment he smirked, engaged in the story, and failed to notice how Katie and Sadie both lowered and their heads slightly and turned, trying nervously to peek at the other.

The protagonist of Noah's story was just about to announce who was behind the assassination when a pair of long, unison wails made hiim jump a full foot in the air.

"_Waaauuuggghhh!_"

"_Yah!_"

Noah landed back in his seat in time to see Katie and Sadie rush at each other and embrace, each sobbing incoherently.

"Oh my gosh, I am _so _sorry Sadie---"

"It's, like, all my fault, I should have just been honest---"

"No, _I_ was wrong, we can, like, disagree about stuff and still be friends!"

"Really?"

"Totally! Even, like, the really important stuff. You're _way_ more important to me than _him!_"

"Oh my gosh, I, like, _sooo _would have hated not being friends with you anymore, Katie!"

"Me too, totally!" She sniffled, flicking a tear from one eye, then smiled. "Come on! Let's go get a pedicure!"

"_EEEEE!_"

The two rushed out of the room, just as Cody started to enter. He drew to the side as they passed without noticing him, still holding each other as they sniffled and squealed.

Cody watched them go, frowning in confusion, then stepped into the room to find Noah looking extremely annoyed.

"So...Sadie finally told Katie she's Team Jacob, then?"

"_Yup._"

* * *

**A/N:** Blame The Kobold Necromancer, his fic gave me the idea.

**Next Interaction: **Harold and Trent.


	19. Harold and Trent: Writing

**Current Interaction: Harold and Trent**

Trent strummed a chord on his guitar, singing to himself.

"_Oh, baby,  
You're so awesome, baby,  
So, uh_—_how about, maybe  
You and I go get some, uh_—_rabies?  
Or_—_take care of a baby?  
Or go and find a_—_laybee_—aw crap, that's not even a _word!_"

Trent stopped playing and slapping his guitar angrily, dropping his head down to his chest. "Man, I really _do_ suck at this," he mumbled. He had been trying to come up with some new lyrics for the last three hours now, but to no avail—if anything, his ideas were becoming _worse_ the harder and harder he tried.

He sighed, dropping his guitar to the floor and rising from the couch. "Maybe I'll go for a walk," he murmured to himself. "My creative juices are tapped out, a little break will help me clear my head..."

Unfortunately there wasn't much of a place to go without leaving the resort; a TDA Playa des Losers was smack in middle of Toronto, which made it naturally less expansive than one on a practically-deserted island. The best he could do was drag his feet around the first floor, which basically consisted of the pool area, the sound studio where they did the Aftermaths and the dining room. The latter was empty except for Harold, who sat hunched over a table and writing furiously as usual, with about a hundred crumpled paper balls littering the table and floor around him.

Seeing no one else around to talk to and nothing else to do, Trent slid into the seat across from him. "Hey, Harold."

"Hey," the lanky geek said, not even looking up from his work.

Trent looked at the upside-down writing Harold was working on. "Still working on those love poems?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." Trent kicked idly under the table, scattering several paper balls in the process. "And you...don't think you're going a little overboard, dude?"

"No way, man. I'm _this close _to getting Leshawna to like me again, I just gotta find the right words to do it! Hmm..." He muttered something quietly to himself, then looked up. "Do you think 'ebony' rhymes with 'Aphrodite?'"

"Uh—close enough, I guess?"

"Cool." He went back to writing, tongue sticking out between his teeth in concentration. After a moment he asked, "How are things with you, by the way? Bridgette said something about how you're about to sign with some big-name record producer or something."

"Yeah, after the first season I started getting a ton of offers from people," Trent said, nervously scratching the back of his head. "I'm just having sort of a problem."

"What?"

"Well, apparently everyone down at the record label think my lyrics...well, stink."

"Hmm." Trent noticed Harold did nothing to contradict that opinion.

"I'm supposed to write some new songs and submit them as a demo, but everything I write lately just turns out cruddier and cruddier."

"Hmm. I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah."

Trent put his face in his hand and slumped down over the table, as Harold gave a last flourish to his writing and picked up his latest poem, reading it softly under his breath. Suddenly he grimaced, growled and crumpled it up, throwing it to the ground with the others and starting again.

Trent frowned, then, out of curiosity, bent down and picked one of the paper balls off the floor, uncrumpling it softly and reading it silently to himself. Harold didn't notice as his companion's eyebrows shot up slightly, nor as Trent bent down and retrieved more of his trash, whispering the words as he read.

"Harold!"

"_Gah!_" He jumped, dropping his pencil and clutching his chest in surprise. "What, man?"

"These poems, they're—they're—"

"I know, Leshawna already turned most of those down."

"_Amazing, dude!_"

Harold blinked. "Huh?"

"Yeah!" Trent was smoothing out several of them, placing them on the table. "This one—oh, if I just edit one or two lines a little, it could be _perfect _for that new tune I came up with the other night! And this one—I mean, I wouldn't use Leshawna's name, but if I replaced it something with the same number of syllables...can I have these, man?"

Harold just stared. "But—Leshawna didn't like _any_ of those—"

"I'll pay you twenty bucks."

Harold's eyes shot open. "Deal!"

Trent whipped out his wallet and shoved a bill into Harold's hand, then bent down and collected an armful of failed poems. "Thanks, dude!" he said, before rushing out of the room.

Harold stared down at his notepad, then held up the twenty, admiring the Queen's visage with a crafty grin. "Harold McGrady, professional songwriter. _AWEsome._"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Is this one too predictable? Anyway, I actually came up with this _before _the TDA special, but maybe this is how the Total Drama Brothers began to come together or something. ;-) I hope you enjoyed, and please leave reviews!

**Next Interaction:** Ezekiel and Izzy. (Probably not romance, though, sorry.)


	20. Ezekiel and Izzy: Practical

**Current Interaction: Ezekiel and Izzy  
**

Ezekiel was laying in a pool chair near the Playa des Losers dock, reading, when Izzy's head popped up beside him, grinning Izzyishly.

Ezekiel was too into his book to notice at first, so Izzy calmly tapped him on the shoulder.

...Heh-heh, just kidding. She leaned forward and screamed right in his ear.

**"_HEY ZEKEY!_"**

"_Bwah!_"

Ezekiel jumped about ten feet into the air, then spun around to face her when he landed. "_Agh_**—**_Izzy! _Doon't sneak up on me like that, eh! Yoo almoost gave me a heart attack."

Izzy merely giggled. "Oh my gosh, you should have seen yourself**—**you were all like '_Bwah_,' and then you were like—_whoooo!_" She mimed him flying up out of his chair with her hands. "It was awesome." She began to giggle again.

Ezekiel lay his book down, rolling his eyes slightly behind his thick bangs. Izzy could be a bit too "on your face" sometimes, as he had heard a few of the other losers tactfully describe her. Still, she seemed to like hanging around him, and Ezekiel sort of enjoyed her company too. He had joined the show for some excitement, and Izzy certainly loved to provide it. And of course he could use as much time around _normal_ teenagers as he could get, eh?

"—ha ha ha ANYWAY!," Izzy said, her laughter coming to a rather abrupt halt. "I need your help for my next brilliant plan! Are ya up to it?"

Ezekiel blanched. "_Um..._that depends, eh. It's not goonna involve Eva's underwear dr'oor again, is it? 'Cause my arm is still kinda hoort from the last time..."

"Oh no, don't worry, it's nothing like that!" Izzy said, suddenly grabbing Ezekiel around the shoulder and pulling him uncomfortably close (hurting his injured arm in the process). "No, today we will engage in a _truly_ awesome, spectacular and galaxy-changing task! For today...we shall _SET _**_FIRE _**_TO THE _**_SUN!_"**

She waved one hand dramatically up across the heavens, using the other to keep Ezekiel pinned to her side. She looked at him expectantly, a wide smile on her face. He just frowned.

"...I _doon't_ think that's practical, eh."

"Huh? Whuddya mean?" Izzy asked, her face falling as she released her captive friend.

"Well...the sun is like, a million miles away, eh?" he explained, spreading his hands apart to indicate the large distance. "I doon't think people can goo that far oo't into space, they've oonly gone as far as the moon or soo. And even if you _coo'd _get there...well, it's soort of already on fire, isn't it? I mean—I guess yoo' coo'd light a torch and throo' it down there oor something, but it's not goona make much of a difference, eh?"

He spread his hands helplessly and shrugged. Izzy blinked and stared at him for a moment, then suddenly grinned, grabbing him around the shoulders again and giving him a rather painful noogie.

"_Ah!_ See, this is why I _like _you, Zeke! You're so much more practical than I am, you help to keep me grounded! Except _you're _not sarcastic like some of the others, and you don't threaten me with detailed knowledge of involuntary commitment laws. Anyway, _come on!_" she cried, suddenly grabbing him by the arm and pulling him after her as she ran off.

"_Agh! _Where are we gooing, eh?" he cried, throwing his free hand over his hat to keep it from flying off his head.

"To find a rocket ship for my new, _new_ brilliant plan to _SET **FIRE** TO THE **MOON!** MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!_"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** No, I did not make up that line, but it was just too perfectly "Izzyish" for me to resist. And I can imagine Izzy as an obsessive _Phineas and Ferb_ fan. She's probably a huge Doofenshmirtz fangirl (and a Perry/Doof shipper to boot).

**Next Interaction:** Um...I don't know! First person to review decides, as long as it's not two people who have already gotten a chapter together.


	21. Chris and Izzy: Price

**Current Interaction: Chris and Izzy**

"_Ugh!_ What _is_ this slop? !"

Duncan threw his spoon back into his oatmeal, which happily absorbed it with a loud chewing noise. Gwen pushed away her eggs, which blinked confusedly in response. "I swear, Chef's cooking is getting worse by the day."

"Mine seems to be okay," Harold said, tentative poking each item on his tray. When his muffin growled at him he jumped and snatched his finger back, eyes going wide.

Over on the Killer Grips' side of the tent, Beth collapsed onto the table and moaned.

"_Oh..._I'm _sooo_ hungry! I miss DJ!"

"I know, right? The only good thing I've tasted all week is my own _lip gloss!_"

Owen just gave a moan of complete and utter despair.

"Oh, it's not that bad."

Owen gasped. "How can you _say _that, Izzy? !"

She shrugged. She was playing with her food, literally—her porridge had snatched up her spoon when she first tried to eat it, but now she had taken out her butter knife and was engaging the foul dish in a friendly sword fight, the silverware clanging together as she spoke. "This stuff is kind of fun, as long as you don't try to eat it or anything."

"But what _are _we supposed to eat, then?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something," she said cheerfully, not taking her eyes off of her prandial battle.

Beth was about to ask what she meant by that—she had a sneaking suspicion that it involved cannibalism or something—when she was cut off by a strangled scream. The contestants all spun around in shock as Chris burst into the craft services tent, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, hands clutching at his hair.

His soaking, limp, _bright green_ hair.

"**_WHO DID THIS? !_**"

For a moment the cast mates were only capable of dropping their jaws and staring, but this quickly gave way to an eruption of laughter. Chris' face twitched, his woefully-under-dressed body shaking in rage. The only ones not laughing were Izzy, who was ignoring her angry meal to send him a calmly amused smirk, and Chef, whose eyes widened as he stuck his head out from the cooking area.

"Whoa, man—what the heck happened to you?"

"_What do you think happened? ! _One of these little—_monsters_—poisoned my shampoo—_I want to know who did this!_"

"What, and you couldn't stop to get dressed before coming t' find out?" Chef asked, trying to speak over the contestants' mad giggles.

"_And how was I supposed to do that, Chef? !_ Look!"

Chris began to pull at his verdant hair, and suddenly everyone realized he wasn't just _clutching_ at it—his hands were _stuck_ to it, a revelation that only made everyone's laughter rise to full force again. Even Chef started to snicker as Chris fumed, Izzy's silent grin widened, and Harold frowned, scratching his chin.

"But wait...if his hands are stuck like that, how did he put the towel on?"

Duncan snorted. "Heh—probably one traumatized intern now!" he gasped, then snickered louder than ever.

Chris was turning into a Christmas display as his reddening face complemented his green hair. "Oh, I should have known it was you!" he snarled, leaning down next to Duncan, looking even more ridiculous with his elbows still sticking out. "You think this is funny? ! One call and I can have you thrown right back into juvie, you little snot!"

"Hey, it—ha-ha—it wasn't me!" Duncan said, trying to compose himself. "Though—_snort_—this probably explains why a bunch of my hair dye is missing!" He collapsed on the table and started pounding it, laughing uproariously again.

Chris threw back his head and screamed. "_I AM NOT JOKING HERE, PEOPLE! _I want to know who did this, and I want to know **_RIGHT NOW!_**"

"We should probably help him," Harold pointed out, eying Chris' waist uneasily. "I mean, he can't get dressed like this, and...sooner or later that towel's gonna start slipping."

Gwen bit her lip and tried to contain herself. "Well, how are we—_snort_—going to do that? Unless we—_snort_—just shave his head for him or something!"

Chris' face went white. "Oh, _no_ way! Get this—_AGH!_" He tried desperately to pull his hands away from his head again, his whole body twisting with the strain. Needless to say, this did nothing to ameliorate the teenagers' laughter.

"You know, _I_ know something that could help," Izzy said calmly, and even though it was almost impossible to hear over everyone else's mirth Chris' head instantly snapped towards her.

"You do? !" Chris was at her side in a second, bending down to hear and carefully angling his elbows to avoid banging into her or Owen. "What? ! _Tell me, woman!_"

"It's a special compound I invented in Science class one time. It was my first discovery that didn't cause _any_ critical injuries!" she added brightly, giving him a wide grin. "I made it as the antidote to this _other_ compound I invented that's three times stickier than the stickiest Super Glue legalized by the Canadian government."

Chris blinked, and immediately his face darkened. "Oh, is that so?" he growled, and Izzy just smiled.

"Yeah-huh! And you know, I even happen to _have_ some of that antidote with me."

"_And you'll give it me?_" Chris asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the contestants' giggles and the aching in his raised arms.

"Oh, sure! For a price."

Chris' eyes narrowed. "_Yeees?_"

* * *

"_Oh, mmm_—I think I love you, Izzy."

"Me, too," Duncan agreed in a muffled voice, stuffing another slice of pizza into his mouth.

Izzy just smirked. "Thanks!" she said, slipping her crust to her bowl of porridge, which squeaked in delight before enthusiastically eating it.

Meanwhile, across the film lot, Billy the intern managed to kick open the door to Chris' private washroom, his arms filled with as many grocery bags as he could carry. He blinked in the steamy room, barely able to make out his boss' silhouette through the shower curtain and fog.

"Mr. Maclean? ! I got those bottles of black hair dye you requested!"

"_Just leave them!_" Chris yelled, scrubbing at his scalp furiously. "Oh, don't worry, baby, you'll be all back to normal soon...yes..."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** For Invaderzimfannumber1, who was the first reviewer from the last chapter to actually _request _something in her review. I'm not sure if she actually wanted me to _torture_ Chris, but...well, I think any time he interacted with Izzy would have to be torture for him. ;-)

This is the longest chapter in this fic so far. Huzzahs are in order.

**Next Interaction:** Alejandro and Heather, because I figure I should use the new characters and I haven't decided who to have interact with Sierra yet.


	22. Heather and Alejandro: Respect

**Current Interaction: **Heather and Alejandro.

Heather knew Alejandro didn't respect her, and it infuriated her.

Heather could not _stand_ being disrespected. She had gotten enough of that when she was younger, and _still_ got more than her share at home from her bratty younger siblings, to say nothing of Gwen or Leshawna or any of the other losers she had to deal with here on the show. But _this_ was where she drew the line—she was _not_ going to let some wannabe loser come in and take away everything _she _had worked so hard for, let alone let him treat _her_ like a pawn to advance himself in the game.

Who did he think he was, anyway? Who did he think _she_ was?

And he was so annoying. He was too perfect—everything came easily for him, for every challenge he had some kind of a sudden, ridiculous talent and a queue of other challengers willing to become idiots in order to serve him. It ticked her off so much, how he could just _breeze_ through everything, flash a smile and get farther ahead than she had in three seasons of actually _working_ to win this game. She hated it, and she hated him.

But what infuriated her even more was that deep down, she also had to respect him—his callousness, his deviousness, his skill at finding everybody's weak point and exploiting it for all it was worth, however maddeningly easy. Even her.

She was falling for that sneaky bastard. She was turning into a moron around him, just like Bridgette, just like Leshawna, Lindsay and Courtney.

And she was losing a lot of self-respect in the process.

Then, when they were in Drumheller, it finally happened. She was trapped, helpless. And _he_ was the only one around who could help her out of it.

It was the most humiliating thing that had happened to her in years, more than Gwen's stupid blog video, more than her haircut at the end of _Island,_ any of it. And _oh,_ was he relishing his power over her right now, just as much as she had relished mocking him for losing the dinosaur challenge...here he was, mocking her, leaving her, _disrespecting_ her, and there was nothing she could do about it but sit in the whole she had dug herself into and listen to him sing his own praises like the arrogant little jackass he was.

So she begged. She didn't have much of a choice, unless she wanted to wait around for an intern to save her long after the others had already finished and Alejandro somehow convinced them to vote her off. So she begged, she pleaded, she asked him to spare her dignity, and even appealed to his _own_ over-inflated sense of self-worth, _anything_ just so she wouldn't be stuck here helpless while he went on to steal everything from her and finally defeat her once and for all.

And he fell for it. In the end, Alejandro gave in and helped her out of pity.

But of course, pity was the exact _opposite _of respect, at least as far as Heather was concerned.

It really wasn't a hard choice to betray him in the voting. Finding out about the whole "picture" thing didn't even make her mad, really—it was a ridiculous ploy, but one rather _brilliantly_ used when it came to Sierra, she had to admit. In the end, though, all it did was get her two more votes in favor of Alejandro's elimination.

Heather exited the confessional, smirking to herself. Alejandro saw her and smirked right back, the poor, oblivious idiot. Heather had to work hard not to laugh.

Heather was not like Bridgette, not like Leshawna or Courtney or any of the other girls dumb enough to give into Alejandro's charms. She had too much self-respect to just throw herself at some guy with a cute face and a massive ego.

She wasn't going to hook up with Alejandro, whatever anybody else said.

Or at the very least, she was going to make sure that he _respected_ her first.

* * *

**A/N:** A couple of things bugged me about Alejandro throughout the season. One was that he was so ridiculously overpowered, especially in the early episodes; he could charm anyway, won in every episode, and beat Heather even though she was putting in a lot more effort. And it also bugged me that the only person who realized he was the villain (and not instantly get voted off) was Heather, when it was increasingly clear she was going to fall for him.

Then came the Drumheller episode, and their whole dynamic became a _LOT_ more interesting. ;-D Anyway, hope the A/H shippers and non-shippers alike enjoyed this one.

**Next Interaction:** Tyler and Sierra, because Cody's already been in three of these stories.


	23. Tyler and Sierra: Fan

**Author's Notes:** Happy New Year, everyone! :-D And happy birthday to this fic. Wow, did I seriously only update six times in 2010? I'll need to try harder this year. Anyway, here's a new chapter, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Tyler and Sierra

Tyler didn't want to admit it, but sometimes he felt like he didn't have anybody who actually wanted him to succeed at anything.

That wasn't really true, of course—I mean, he had plenty of friends, being the big star and overall awesome guy that he was, and of course he had his parents and siblings and everyone like that. And Lindsay, who was, like, the most amazing girlfriend ever in every single way. But they sort of, you know, _had_ to do that, precisely because they _were_ his friends and family and girlfriend. What he was missing, though, were random people who _didn't_ really know him, but still cheered for him, still liked him, and still felt that he was awesome enough to succeed in anything that he tried.

In a word, Tyler wanted fans.

Putting it that way sounded sort of egotistical, but honest, it wasn't that Tyler thought he was better than anybody else or something. Heck, if anything, he just wanted to be _equal_—everybody he knew seemed to have their own little group of fans and admirers. His dad got a ton of fan mail from people who loved his sportscasting gig. His older brother had gotten a full basketball scholarship to Acadia University. All his friends on all the sports teams had their fans and girls who wanted to date them, and Tyler...didn't. Which was to say _nothing_ of the other guys in the _Total Drama_ cast—he got a bump in popularity for displaying his awesome skills in season three, but he was _still_ one of the least talked-about contestants in the TD fandom. Heck, even _Heather_ seemed to be more popular than he was!

Tyler couldn't get why people didn't seem to appreciate all his talents. I mean, okay, so he had tripped on the soccer field once or twice this season. (It was sixteen times.) So he had gotten a little banged up on the show. (He had been in a full-body cast for months after the finale.) But for some reason, people seemed to act like he was some kind of total idiot who was gonna fail at everything! And now Coach was leaving him out of more than half the games, and he could only seem to find _one_ website about him that focused on something other than his occasional, usually-minor injuries.

A blog that, it turned out, was actually run by someone from the show.

Tyler didn't know Sierra too well. They'd spent a total of a few hours on the same team, and really the only thing notable about the experience was that she gotten them stuck with a very unflattering name before she abandoned them for the Amazons. The only other thing he knew about her was she was obsessed with Cody, and even though they were close now the poor guy had gone on and on to Tyler about her during the season—heck, Tyler had spent a good part of their time in Jamaica helping him hide from her.

But what could he say? Tyler had to smile as he read blog posts about his impressive athletic feats, updated every time he managed to make yet another amazing play during a game. It wasn't getting as many posts or hits as some of her other fansites, but it was still awesome to read about himself, to watch the videos she posted, look through the comments by his small but vocal fandom...

Eventually, Tyler decided to leave a short comment of his own. _Hey, this site is wicked! Thanks 4 making it, dude. ;-)_

Sierra's response came in less than an hour, a huge block of chatspeak text in large, capital letters. _OMG, I'M SO GLAD YOU FOUND THIS PLACE! ! ! UR THE 8TH "TOTAL DRAMA" CONTESTANT TO FIND ONE OF MY SITES THATS SO COOL! ! 1 IM SO HAPPY YOU CAME HERE BY THE WAY WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE BAKGROUND I WASNT SURE IF I SHOULD GO WITH BASBALLS OR SOCER..._

Soon the two of them had gotten into a long series of responses, which led to another on a different thread, which eventually spilled over to their MyFace pages...talking to Sierra was different than talking to other people, somehow. For some reason his friends never wanted to talk about sports with him—or at least, any sport he was actually playing in—but Sierra didn't mind. She didn't seem to be that interested or knowledgeable about sports in general, but she was always interested in letting him explain, always thankful when he could correct a mistake in one of her blog posts, always happy to wish him luck in the next game without that tone of foreboding that most people usually had...

And it turned out that they didn't even live too far away from each other.

A few weeks later Tyler was running down the gridiron, ball tucked under his arm and the roar of the crowd in his ears, when he hazarded a look up at the stands. He saw a group of guys holding a banner for quarterback Michael Thompson, ignored them, saw Brett Steves' squad of fangirls, ignored them, and finally caught site of Sierra standing about halfway up the bleachers. She was wearing a T-shirt with Tyler's face on it, holding a pair of red and white pom-poms and cheering wildly, so enthused that several people were glaring at her in either confusion or annoyance.

Tyler stopped and grinned, waving to her. She closed her eyes and squealed excitedly, not even noticing as Tyler was tackled from behind by two enormous opponents.

Later she would burst into the locker room with her laptop before he was even done changing out of his uniform, too eager to wait before showing him her new blog post about the game.

_Ah._ It was nice to be appreciated.

* * *

**Next Interaction:** Chef and Blaineley.


	24. Chef and Blaineley: Cooking Show

**Author's Notes:** Huh...it's been a while, hasn't it? ^^;

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Chef and Blaineley.

Blaineley held up her microphone and flashed the camera her flashiest grin. "Hello, and welcome to _Eat Crow,_ Canada's next hottest reality show! I'm Blaineley Stacey Andrews O'Halloran, coming at you LIVE from the world-famous Chez Fromage restaurant in Toronto."

The camera followed her as she began walking between the fancy tables, heading toward the kitchen in the back. "Here, in one of the country's top towns of taste, we will meet twelve up-and-coming cuisiniers vying to be crowned the next Chef Supreme! And here to judge them we have Cordon Bleu graduate and my fellow reality TV star, Chef Jean-Marie Hatchet!"

A machete came down, lopping off the head of a fish as its wielder gave a gap-toothed grin. "Hello, Blaineley, and thank you for that kind introduction," he said, his voice slightly stilted.

"We're happy to have you on board, Chef! Now, why don't you tell our viewers a little about what the contestants can expect to face this season?"

"Well, Blaineley, here on _Eat Crow,_ we're gonna take reality cooking to a whole new—"

_BAM-BAM-BAM!_

Chef faltered; Blaineley scowled, looking off-camera. "What is that noise?!" _  
_

_BAM!_

The back door into the kitchen burst open, and a short brunet in disheveled clothes fell into the room. "_CHEF!_ Please, buddy, listen to me!"

Chef groaned—Blaineley's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Oh, for Pete's sake..."

Chris McLean crawled forward, grabbing Chef by the hem of his apron. "Come on, man, I'm begging you—come back to the show! Please!"

"For the last time, Chris, I ain't comin' back! I'm with Blaineley now!" he said, pulling his apron away and taking a step toward his new co-host. "I'm sick of torturin' teenagers for the eighth year in a row! We got our own show, now. One where I can actually put my talents to use, instead of just haulin' junk around while you lay on your butt drinkin' cocktails!"

"But I _need_ you, dude! You can't leave me alone with the executives and those—_horrible _teenagers! I can change, I promise! I'll even start _paying_ you! For reals, this time!"

"SECURITY!"

"No—Chef, please—!"

Two security guards came and dragged Chris away, sobbing.

"You hurt me one too many times, man!" Chef called as the back door slammed shut again. He sighed, rolling his eyes toward Blaineley. "Can you believe that guy?"

"He _is_ a sad little man, isn't he?" She checked her watch. "Great, now we're off-schedule. We're gonna have to hustle if we want to get the contestants in for tonight's dinner rush."

Dinner rush—that brought back memories to Chef's days in the restaurant business. He imagined the_ Eat Crow_ contestants—a sad collection of wimps he ever saw one—rushing around like madmen tonight as he stood over them, screaming. While he was working with an attractive female TV star. He grinned again.

"Take it from when you come into the kitchen?"

Blaineley sighed. "I guess. Come on, Maurice."

She motioned to the cameraman, who followed her back out into the dining area of the restaurant. "Here, in one of the world's top towns of taste, we will meet twelve up-and-coming cuisiniers vying to be crowned..."

* * *

**A/N: **Why don't more people pair these two? "Cooking Show" could even be a good name for this couple.

**Next Interaction:** Billy the Intern and Cameron. Finishing one set of characters and moving on to another.


	25. Billy the Intern and Cameron: Experience

**Author's Notes:** I meant to have this out on New Year's, this collection's anniversary, but I didn't because I'm a lazy bum. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Billy the Intern and Cameron.

Billy practically ran down the corridor of Total Drama Studios, clutching a box of possessions tightly to his chest. Finally, after two horrible years that felt like a thousand, he was almost free. He just had to make it to the elevator and dash across the lobby, get into his beat-up car, and then drive far, far away to someplace where this show would only be a terrible memory and—

"_Oof!_"

"_Whoa!_"

Billy fell to the ground, his box spilling onto the floor, as he crashed into a small boy who had dashed out of the elevator. "Cammy-Bear!" said the woman walking with him, bending down to lift him to his feet. "Are you hurt, honey? Here, let Mommy see..."

Billy refilled his box and climbed back to his feet as the woman continued to fuss over her son, who protested weakly. "Sorry," Billy said, edging around them. "Just in a hurry, wasn't paying attention—"

"Hey, I know you!" the boy said suddenly, managing to pull away from his mother's grasp. "You're Billy, right? The intern from the show? You're really popular on the Internet! Not that I ever go on except for lepidopterology research," he said quickly, as his mother gave him a startled look.

"Uh, yeah. I was. An intern, I mean. I'm still the Billy part. But my contract just expired, so I'm heading out now," he said, motioning to the box in his arms.

"That's too bad," the boy said, and his disappointed sounded sincere. "I'm just starting the show this season," he added.

"Oh! Really?" Billy tried not to sound too surprised. _Is Chris using twelve-year-olds now, or is this kid just really scrawny for his age?_

"Yeah! We already signed the contract and everything. So, what's it like, being on the show?" the boy asked excitedly. "I mean, I know you just worked there, but it has to be pretty cool, being on TV and everything, right?"

"Is it safe?" the mother interjected worriedly. "I've heard some...things, and...well, it's not going to be too much for my little Cammy-bear's health, is it? He's very fragile."

Billy let his mouth hang open for a moment, not quite sure what he could say. The enthusiasm on "Cammy's" face brought Billy back to when he got started, fresh out of film school and ecstatic at the thought of working on a real, internationally-recognized television show. And then what did he get? Two seasons of absolute _hell._ He was barely paid, the equipment he had to work with was always broken (at least the important equipment—the studio saved the big bucks to pay for the insaner challenges) and he was constantly forced to evade rabid animals and psychopathic contestants, all of whom always seemed desperate for his blood. Chris McLean was an absolute tyrant, Chef was hardly better and some of the producers could actually be _worse. _The _World Tour_ season had been especially bad—he had been dragged around the world in that decrepit plane, with tiny quarters and no decent food, for months without seeing his family or friends.

"It's, uh...an experience," Billy said finally. "And, uh—you know. Maybe you'll win!" Billy frankly doubted that—the kid didn't look very fit, the producers didn't seem to like underdogs and, after all, there were a dozen or so other contestants to compete with. Still, he had to give the kid some hope—he knew _he_ would have gone crazy without that promise of a bump on his résumé.

The woman checked her watch. "Well, we better get a move on, Cameron—we don't want to be late for our appointment with Mr. Arom."

"Okay. Nice meeting you, Mister...Billy."

"My pleasure. And, uh...good luck, kid," Billy said, hefting his box. _You're definitely going to need it._

* * *

**Next Interaction:** Sam and Dakota.


	26. Sam and Dakota: Reality

**Author's Notes:** It's my birthday, and that means fanfiction updates! :-D Also, I'm doing the 100 Themes Challenge on Deviantart, and I realized I could use those prompts for these stories and kill two birds with one stone. Take that, ya dumb birds.

Also, I like to joke that Sam is a furry, but other people say that Dakota has scales, not fur. Is there a special term for that, or can we just go with the generic label of "weird?"

* * *

**Current Interaction:** Sam and Dakota.

If Sam had learned one thing in his seventeen years of life—aside from an endless number of cheat codes and a few basics in programming—it was this: reality kind of sucks. And when it doesn't, it's because it's too busy just being boring.

Sam's mom was always trying to get him to stop playing video games. Even some of his friends thought that he took gaming a little far, like that time he forgot to sleep for a few days and wound up fainting _right_ _before_ he got the ultimate high score on Rumble Cars. His guidance counselor said he needed to "see the real world," but why bother? He'd learned enough about the real world by the time he was six: it was mostly full of jerks who called you a fatso and a loser, and nothing interesting ever happened. In a game he be aliens, wizards, or really hot chicks in robotic armor. In real life he could be…Sam. It just didn't compare.

He did sort of realize that his obsession was, if anything, making him more of a portly loser than he already was. That's why he signed up for the show. He knew that reality TV wasn't reality, really, but it was a nice middle ground for someone trying to ease their way back into the world. Besides, if he made it far enough, maybe he'd get, like, popular or something. But he wasn't expecting much, and he certainly wasn't expecting to meet somebody like Dakota.

Dakota was hot. Hot enough that she could turn into a monster and _still _be hot—heck, maybe even a little hotter! Plus she was rich and tabloid-famous even before the show. And most importantly of all, she was actually nice to Sam. He wasn't quite sure _why,_ to be honest, but she was and that was all that mattered.

But girls like Dakota didn't really exist, did they? That was the sort of thing that only happened in fiction. Beautiful princesses didn't fall in love with pudgy plumbers in the real world. Nerdy everymen didn't actually get the girl. Monster-women who were really just oddly-colored mega-hotties were just a fantasy, and it's not like Sam was usually into scaly chicks covered in spines really but oh when she punched that giant turtle was that SO FREAKIN' HOT man.

The funny thing was, his mom and some of his friends still thought he was crazy for dating her, but Sam didn't care. He didn't even care that it had been six hours since the last time he played _Mines of Worldcraft. _He could just sit here in the garden of the hospital where Dakota was being treated and hold her scaly hand, and he was happier than he had ever been playing some dumb old game.

Really.

* * *

**Next Interaction:** Dawn and Zoey.


End file.
